


Feed Your Anger

by Lazarus76



Series: Force Fed [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Beck is still a villain, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, M/M, Peter proves himself a hero, trigger warning for bulimia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarus76/pseuds/Lazarus76
Summary: Beck is lost in a fog of illness and anger. Peter has to help to pick up the pieces.





	1. Running

**Author's Note:**

> This won't be too long - probably under 10 chapters.

They'd got him out. His team had got him out. 

Beck was both ecstatic and terrified. He had no idea how Veronica and Gunterman had managed to slip in, but the drones...he'd assumed it was use of the drones. Then, suddenly, he was being shoved into the back of a car and ordered to lie still. Covered with a blanket. Gone.

He shuddered. He was in bed, in an assured Safe House. Blinking, he saw the face of Janice. He smiled at her. 

“Quentin...” her voice was soft, with a slight tremble in it, “I've brought you water.”

“Thank you.” His throat was raspy, and he inwardly cursed Fury and the decision to ram a feeding tube down his throat. The hologram of Peter had convinced him to eat for a couple of days, but then he stopped, his suspicions growing. When Peter had materialised again, only for his arm to flicker, Beck had refused to eat completely. His punishment had been for four orderlies to rush in, push him down, whilst a medic pushed the tube down his throat. He'd been left like that for two days, helpless and furious, feeling fuller and fuller. When they'd removed it, he'd vomited, and tearfully pleaded with them to never do that to him again. 

Beck shuddered, and felt the tears start again. Janice leaned over and gently stroked his arm. He didn't resist. His tears were of anger. Anger that Mysterio was now simply a distant memory, angry that his weaknesses had been fully displayed and manipulated by Fury and his thugs, angry at the thick coating of fat that had settled on his body. Panicking, he grabbed at Janice.

“Is this real?!”

Janice blinked. “Quentin, it is. There are no drones, this is me.” She pinched his forearm and he gave a yelp. Yes, she was real. 

So was the fat.

______________________________________________________________________________

Beck took a deep breath and tried to breathe. He needed to do this. Needed to to get rid of the rubber ring that had settled, disgustingly, around his middle. 

Leaning over the smooth porcelain, he gagged and felt the food leave his system. A swirl of bile coloured the white ceramic. Suddenly, there was a banging on the door. 

“Boss?!”

Beck began to stand up, choking slightly. As he swilled his mouth out with water, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was still so..._pudgy_.

He opened the door, to find himself confronted by William. “Boss? Are you...?”

Beck blinked. “I'm fine, everything's good.” He smiled at the older man. “Just a small...stomach upset. We need to get back to planning.”

William nodded, unprepared to take the matter further. Beck walked past, trying to stand up straight. 

_________________________________________________________________________

The costume. Beck looked at it, and ran his fingers down it. He was not even going to try and humiliate himself further by pulling it on. The prospect of a seam splitting or the zip bursting was too much. He was too fat to fit into it, too heavy to be a hero. He cursed himself, the tears threatening to break free. Stark had had his revenge. Thanks to Fury, Ross, and Parker, he was destined to be a fat has-been. 

Swallowing, Beck felt the anger take over. He had to regain control.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As he took a deep breath, Beck felt himself relax. He was going to run. Pulling a baseball cap down low, he zipped up the light blue jacket. He could easily cover a few miles. 

As he ran, he felt the city open up. Staying in New York had been one of William's better ideas – there was no way Fury would suspect him existing on his doorstop. 

He covered the ground quickly, trying to ignore what felt like his flesh jiggling. As his legs gained ground, he could feel himself breathing more heavily. Then his breath came in gasps. 

Beck stopped, and bent over. Taking anotheer deep breath, he steeled his resolve and began to run again. But his breathing felt shallow. Then, he suddenly started to panic. His heart was hammering, and his felt as though his surroundings were beginning to tilt. 

Beck staggered, crashing to the ground. He didn't see the group of teenagers, who were sitting on the bench observing the collapsing man in horror. He didn't see them running over. 

He didn't see the face of the young man who gently and carefully turned him onto his side, and looked at the others who had crowded round in shock. 

“Mr Beck?” 

As Peter Parker gently placed him in the recovery position, Beck began to move. As he looked up, and their eyes met, he froze. 

“Peter? Oh, God. Please – let me go.”


	2. Confronting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing up.

"Peter, we should just leave him."

The contempt in the other young man's voice hit Beck like a slap. He blinked, trying to focus on the concrete path. Slowly, shakily, he began to get up, the muscles in his arms tensing. "You don't need to. I'm going."

"Mr Beck!" Peter grabbed his shoulders, and Beck realised the younger man was crouching down, making them eye level with each other. "You can't just go. You fainted!"

"I'll be all right." Beck stood up, unable to hide a wince of pain. His muscles felt shredded, and he realised, with a growing horror, he was feeling nauseous. Turing, he vomited onto the grass verge. 

When he looked up, one of the young women - tall, very slim, dark haired - was handing him a tissue. "Here."

Beck took it, feeling both pathetic and grateful. As he wiped his mouth, Peter turned, talking quietly with the other young man, and a pretty young blonde woman. After giving Beck a final glare, they both left. 

He looked at Peter. "So, are you...going with them?"

"No." The young woman shook her head. "You're coming with us."

Beck looked at her. "Hate to break with to you...but no." He shivered. Peter looked at him. "Mr Beck, I think you need to."

Beck swallowed. "OK. Bear in mind that Fury is looking for me..." suddenly his eyes widened with panic. "You haven't been sent by Fury, have you?"

"No," she shook her head. "I've never met who you're talking about."

"Mr Beck," Peter said, his voice patient. "I think you need to come with us. Just to...talk."

Beck looked at them both. Finally, he nodded. "All right."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"OK, Mr Beck, what can I get you?"

Beck was staring at the linoleum covered table. "Black coffee, please."

Peter looked at the young woman, and shook his head, but went to the counter. She slid into a seat, opposite him. "Hey. I'm MJ."

He nodded. "I'm...Beck."

MJ looked at him. "I know. You were the guy in Venice. And Prague. And London. The one who tried to kill me, Peter, and our friends." She paused. "You know, Peter found you, lying there. At first he thought you were dead, until he realised you had a pulse." She looked at him. "Peter...he carried you. Put you over his shoulder, and swung you down to an ambulance. You were sedated and taken back to the States." 

Beck winced. "That was..."

"The truth," she countered. She looked at him. "Why are you here, Mr Beck? Peter was told by Fury that you were in a containment facility."

He looked at the table again, unable to find the words to match hers. "I...was."

"Why?" Her question was so blunt, so pointed, that he almost wanted to tell her the truth. "I...was injured. During the drone strike."

"No you weren't." She shook her head. "I saw you, lying on that stretcher. You were really thin." She studied him. "You still look really thin."

"Yeah...I got sick." Beck shrugged. "Stomach bug."

"A stomach bug?" MJ raised her eyebrows. "I didn't think superheroes got stomach bugs."

"Well, I did!" Beck snapped. He looked up. Peter had come back, with three mugs. He placed one in front of MJ. "Here, Chai Latte, same as me. Same as you too, Mr Beck."

"A Chai Latte?!" Beck blinked, and looked at Peter in shock. "I...just a black coffee would be fine." He looked at the mug, the fragrant amber liquid, with steam rising, almost with suspicion. 

"I think you need some calories, Mr Beck." Peter spoke almost sympathetically. MJ raised her eyebrows. "I think he means you need fattening up."

"Why, thank you," Beck said, coldly. "I will definitely take dietry advice from a couple of teenagers."

MJ shrugged. "It looks as though you need advice."

Beck choked out a bitter laugh. "Funny. That's what Fury was trying to give me. So I'm fit to stand trial." He looked up at Peter, and smirked. "So go and hand me over. I'm sure you want to, Peter."

MJ looked at Beck. "Considering you tried to kill us, I think he's justified in doing that." 

Peter swallowed. "No. I'm not handing you in."

Beck blinked. "You're not?"

"No." Peter spoke with a certainty that sent a chill down Beck's spine. "I'm going to help you get better." 

Frozen, Beck could only stare at him.


End file.
